


Past is Prologue

by Bookgirlbx



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV), ichabbie - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Ichabbie Weekend, ichabbie - Freeform, ichabbie hallowen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:03:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookgirlbx/pseuds/Bookgirlbx
Summary: "...she that from whomWe all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again(And by that destiny) to perform an actWhereof what's past is prologue; what to come,In yours and my discharge."
William ShakespeareThe Tempest Act 2, scene 1, 245–254





	1. Chapter 1

Abbie traced the skein of soft gray yarn with her finger as she picked up up the remains of Crane's knitting project from the coffee table. Crane took up knitting crafts to keep his idle hands busy when they were not saving the world,or flipping the pages of some historical text. Knitting was a light distraction from the heavy duties of being a witness. Crane's preoccupation with unfurling the history of the two witnesses seemed a little too heady for Abbie's taste, she mused, working the soft thread lightly in her hands. All her life she was a reluctant witness to things she wished she could un-know or un-see. The burden of seeing the unseen had taken a toll on her and her relationships. The profound sense of loss haunted her as well- loss of her mother, father, and Corbin. She had lost her only sister Jenny too, but was grateful to be reunited these last few years. With Crane's arrival into her life, however, she felt empowered to accept her destiny as one of God's witnesses and embraced her duty as a soldier in the war against evil. Abbie had come to terms with her own past by helping Crane make peace with his present.

Her partner, Crane, emerged from the eighteenth century with the same destiny. Destined as one of God's witnesses foretold in the Book of Revelations, Crane was Abbie's other half. Together they were invincible. Their lives and fate now intertwined into a solid partnership and affectionate friendship. While Abbie could help Crane navigate the nuances of modern life, she could not help him negotiate the discomfit of his mind and heart, which at times he kept hidden, even from her.

With each light caress of yarn against her fingertips, Abbie imagined what it would feel like to trace her finger across Crane's stern brow as he contemplated some new puzzle. In his former life, Ichabod Crane was a professor at Oxford University before turning his back on the crown and joining the revolutionary Rebels in the new world. As George Washington's Captain and Benjamin Franklin's apprentice, Crane was a man of many talents. He was learned and idealistic, yet maintained his own on the battlefield. A spy and statesman, Crane was a gifted gentleman from an ancient, noble family. He'd traced his family's roots to Scotland on one of his many travels. Excavating the past for Crane brought the witnesses closer to fulfilling their mission but also anchored them to a divine purpose greater than themselves.

While Abbie was not opposed to Crane's solitary trips, his absence was an ever present reminder of how intimate their connection had become. In truth, Abbie's feelings for Crane had taken on a life of their own and she quietly kept her smoldering regard in check. She continued to twirl the gray yarn between her fingers, absentmindedly visualizing Crane's long fingers working the needles effortlessly forming intricate patterns of woven thread.

A flash of lightening and crash of thunder quickly broke Abbie's reverie. Hurriedly, she put the knitting out of sight and attended to the bottle of port on the granite kitchen counter, shaking fantasies of Crane from her mind. Her strong hands deftly popped the cork. This was exactly what she needed, a long sip of sweet wine to drown the rising, disquieting need that was as loud as the wailing tempest outside. Her yearning for Crane was a demand for attention. Abbie knew that Crane's romantic gaze would never be cast in her direction, however her attraction to the tall, dark and British time traveler rendered her helpless. Emphatically she gulped her wine while surveying her reflection in the stormy window, overlooking the relentless rain that drenched her garden. Reflected back to her was a petite, yet stunning figure. Dark almond eyes of rich maple peered back. Her slim silhouette was strong and dominating. However unsettled she might have felt at the moment, she exuded confidence and stood with the authority befitting her rank as Lieutenant. As Abbie peered at the shadow of herself in the glass, she caught a slight movement in her periphery. She strained her eyes to see past the dark rain and approached the french doors leading out onto the patio. Setting down her wine, Abbie searched for signs of movement. Clutching the door handle with her left hand, she drew her firearm with her right and cocked it in readiness for what unknown threat could be lurking.


	2. Fierce & Fragile

In the twilight of the garden Crane trained his eyes on Leftenant Abbie Mills. She stood in the kitchen of her Victorian house nursing a glass of Spanish port, her particular favorite. The ruby liquid wet her lips. Crane stood hesitant in the onslaught of the storm, the wind-whipped rain crashed into his tall, lank frame. Albeit muscular under his distinguished captain's overcoat, Crane's shadowy figure continued to surveil Miss Mills. His long brown hair escaped from its loose band and Crane remained spellbound by Abbie; utterly transfixed despite being drenched to the bone. The consternation he read on her face piqued his interest and he studied her lithe figure as if trying to read her mind. Crane's blue eyes could not unravel Abbie's secrets. She was his partner, his fellow witness, yet there remained an emotional and physical chasm that he dare not cross unless invited to do so. Intellectually, the Leftenant was more than his match. Clever yet satirical, Abbie knew his triggers well. She also possessed a warmth and generosity of spirit that had been long absent from Crane's life. Perhaps that's what drew him close to her. The unspoken compulsion to be near, yet distant, was another contradiction the former captain wrestled with when it came to the leftenant.

Crane found himself more than intrigued by those glorious brown eyes that captivated him ever since their first encounter in the Sleepy Hollow Police Department. She introduced herself as Leftenant Mills then and questioned him about the murder of her partner, Sheriff August Corbin and a headless horseman that had cut him down by decapitation. What resulted was the beginning of a journey that would find the pair battling demons, traveling to purgatory, and doing battle with the Hessian soldier that had killed him in the eighteenth century. This was the moment that began it all really; the event that set him on his current course. Since that time, Crane and Abbie investigated supernatural occurrences while fighting off evil forces that sought to bring about the apocalypse. Throughout their various missions, they soldiered on keeping faith in one another. Their lives together were entwined much like that of his knitting. They were two pieces of thread that intersected creating a magnificent weapon against evil. Their bond as witnesses gave him both strength and support. Without Abbie by his side, Crane knew he would falter. Their partnership meant more to him than anything but he could not confess the feelings that were present. Standing outside their shared home in the drowning rain, it felt like a veil had somehow been lifted from Crane's eyes and he saw Abbie much differently than before. He now examined his changing perception of the beautiful goddess with wine on her lips.

Crane admired Abbie's indefatigable dedication to saving the world, come what may. Her fierce displays of loyalty and audacious confidence unified their supernatural team. What he now beheld was not only his fierce partner, Leftenant Mills, but the manifestation of all that he'd ever wanted. This singular woman enthralled him completely and he was at her mercy. This fragile man was utterly in love and so heated with desire that he was unfazed by the harsh elements bearing down on him. As realization drenched him, Crane was caught off guard by a sudden jolt of electricity that struck him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive feedback! I hope to continue to expand on the first person POV for both characters.


	3. Lucky Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie's pov

As Abbie crossed the threshold of the stone patio, rain pelting at her flesh, she saw the lightening bolt clearly strike something. It was if the hand of God's had measured exactly where to hit. The target lay slumped in a heap, face down in a shallow pool of rainwater. A mass covered by HIS overcoat, wearing HIS boots, and long, dark tangled tresses. As awareness dawned on her she sprinted towards the length of the body. 

"Crane!" she exclaimed. Dashing against the pounding force of the storm. 

Raising him up and cradling him in her arms, panic began to rise in her now trembling body. Abbie's hands shook as she raised them to check Crane's pulse. His skin was cold and clammy. She couldn't feel even the slightest throbbing below the surface of his neck or wrist. The Leftenant choked back tears, "Crane! Crane,stay with me now. I'm here, everything's going to be okay," reassuring herself more than him.

Abbie recalled her CPR training she did three months ago. With one hand supporting Crane's neck, she tilted his chin up and placed her wine stained lips to his opened mouth and started with intervals of breaths and chest compressions with both arms. She did so with such urgency that the world seemed to come to a standstill around her. 

Crane was still not revived after five minutes of repetitions. On her knees now, Abbie reached for her cell phone and called for an ambulance as the tears finally came down. "Oh God, oh God...this can't be happening" she swore out loud  
tasting the salty stream. A flood of terror gripped her. 

Abbie held Crane's hand and squeezed while fervently praying for a miracle. She called for angels and ancestors to come to Crane's aid. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the rain ceased its deluge instantly as if in answer to her desperation. If only Joe was here, he could've worked his magic or at least the portable defibrillator he carried for emergencies. 

As hopeless as it seemed, Abbie gathered her strength and shifted Crane's body up and onto her shoulder. She carried him inside the house and laid him onto the living room sofa,in front of the fireplace. She smoothed the limp wet strands of hair from his face.


	4. Fugit inreparabile tempus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crane's pov

Crane's vision was blurred as he slowly regained consciousness and gradually opened his eyes. He blinked several times to clear his sight before the scene before him came into focus. His head throbbed at his temples a bit and he could feel himself indisposed under his quilt. Quite uneasily he shifted his weight, and could feel shooting pains pierce his right side. What was more disorienting than the aching discomfort of flesh and muscles was what he now beheld. 

He was laying in his bed in a white linen nightshirt. Katrina was by his bedside, eyes closed, silently praying or cursing. Crane couldn't tell the difference in his stupor. A small boy sat next to him reading aloud what sounded like a nursery rhyme. What's more, a distinct taste of wine inexplicably lay on his lips.

"Where am I?" Crane hoarsely whispered. He cleared his throat. "Where's Abbie?" Crane eased his way into a sitting position clutching the bandages that tightly encircled his slender waist. 

"Papa! Papa! You're finally awake!" The boy exclaimed in response. His small blue eyes twinkled as his father rose. Glee could be read in his wide smile as he cast the book aside and embraced his papa. He was the spitting image of Crane as a boy. 

"Oh, Ichabod! The worst is now over, my love." Katrina grabbed Crane's hand and pressed her lips to his bare knuckles in relief. This sweet gesture gave Crane the greatest unease. "Jeremy, go fetch Grace, quickly my boy," Katrina implored. She cast an affectionate and loving glance at Crane. "Beloved, what do you last remember?" she queried. "I was desperately worried once you succumbed to the fever that has taken many in our village."

The weight of Jeremy and Katrina's words and presence lay heavy on his chest now. Was this his reckoning? Must he confront his demons without end? Crane couldn't trust what he now witnessed and was genuinely in disbelief. Could this be some devilry like Moloch used to twist reality? This all seemed like a treacherous lie. 

The boy, Jeremy, was Crane's son to be sure. He never knew that Jeremy existed, save as The Horseman of War and a fiend named Henry Parish. This boy and Katrina must be a curse or spell conjured up by some malevolence. He was trapped for the present, not to mention severely sore. Helpless. Fragile. As he looked up in dismay, Crane saw Jeremy had returned with a beautiful woman. It was clear she was no slave. " Aaaah this must be Grace" sighed Crane. The resemblance to Abbie was uncanny- stunning dark hair, wide brown expressive eyes, and a striking figure in her comely period dress. Ichabod's eyes widened and he offered his hand to Grace while withdrawing from Katrina's grasp. 

Grace had shown Abbie the past and exposed Jeremy as one of many of Katrina's secrets. Grace also provided the magical means for Abbie to return to him from 1781, after she pursued a deranged Katrina back in time, hellbent on killing past Crane. While this was his first meeting with her, he'd felt like he'd known Grace Dixon all his life. 

Grace was the common denominator in both Abbie and Crane's lives. She was the one thread that bound their fates together. Her journal contained insights into the supernatural world and she was a trusted confidant of George Washington. Grace would be able to help, he was certain. Grace would know where he was and how to return to Abbie. 

As incredulous as he was in his vulnerable state, Crane believed in the sacred power of the witness blood lines and ancestral connections. Throughout his research, Crane uncovered that the two witnesses were prevalent in almost all religions and symbolized humanity's greatest hope against the forces of evil. He knew what was at stake and he sensed that this current interlude was no accident.

As Grace touched Crane's hand, a spark of electricity seized his body. He convulsed for several moments and slipped into darkness. He heard the sound of the Leftenant's voice after a time. Her delicate whisper was cloaked in sorrow. Try as he might to will his eyelids open, all he could do was listen to Abbie's laments.


	5. Latch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You lift my heart up  
> When the rest of me is down  
> You, you enchant me, even when you're not around  
> If there are boundaries, I will try to knock them down  
> I'm latching on babe  
> Now I know what I have found"
> 
> Sam Smith

Abbie felt something inside her shift. Amidst the tense knot that was twisting and tightening in her center, there was a profound heaviness that moved through her being. She knelt in front of Crane's lifeless body as the bottom of her stomach suddenly dropped at the words "misadventure" when the EMT confirmed cause of death with the emergency dispatcher. Sorrow filled her words as Abbie pleaded, "There must be something you can do. There's always another way, right?" Earnestly she looked up at the man, searching imploringly for some hope as she fought back against the dark truth that she could not accept. "I'm sorry Lieutenant Mills. The lightening strike stopped his heart instantly," he said matter of factly. Abbie shook her head in disbelief and wrung her hands. This wasn't real, this had to be a dream. Something in the air felt warped and there was no way in hell Crane just left her like this- high and dry. Abbie could not accept this turn of events. It was maddening. Her eyes became stormy as her stomach muscles continued to churn. Hours ago she was fingering his needlework and fantasizing about Crane, now he lay before her motionless. She reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his. This was what she wanted all along, and now... now she was wishing it was her that was hit by lightening and not him. Why did she always feel like she had to protect him? Softly she sighed and lay her cheek against his. She whispered, "Crane, this isn't the end."

Abbie knew that the body would need to be moved to the coroner's shortly. She tried to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Jenny and Joe were both on their way, but in the meantime she asked the officers and EMT for some privacy. As they left the scene and retreated to their cars outside, Abbie exhaled a long breath. She was waiting for the past two hours to just gather her bearings and now it was just her and Crane. She steadied herself surveying Crane's body. Something caught her attention peering out of his trousers. "Hold up," Abbie puzzled out loud, "What's this doing here?" As she rose from her knees, she leaned into Crane's waistband and pulled out a small, burgundy leatherbound book about the size of her hand. It was hidden from view by the layers of colonial clothing Crane wore when traveling. Abbie's careworn hands glided down the wet spine, gently handling the text. The book smelled of Crane as she held it up to her nose and drunk in the scent. Her eyelids closed and a vision of Grace Dixon emerged. Grace was speaking to Crane in hushed tones in a small bedroom, "Captain, My name is Grace Dixon. You have been unconscious for many months. Your family has been very distressed, however, it seems now you're quite recovered. Mistress Katrina is much relieved." Crane appeared hunched over, sitting aloft an old bed, he winced in pain replying, "Ms. Dixon, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I've heard a great deal about you and I am in your debt for your diligent care. Forgive me, but, I have the distinct feeling that things are not as they appear." He raised his eyebrow and queried, "According to Washington, you are an ally to the cause?" At his prompting, Grace sat beside him. "May I be frank with you Ms. Dixon?" he started. Grace held up her forefinger to his lips preventing him from speaking. Next to her she held out a book, one that looked incredibly like the book Abbie now held. Grace handed Crane the text and opened it revealing a drawing of the Leftenant. Abbie's namesake, Grace, now turned to peer at her. 


	6. Book of Witnesses

Abbie was transfixed by Grace's heavy gaze. She felt like she was having an outer body experience. She was present with Crane's inanimate body, yet she was somewhere else altogether. Somewhere distant and remote. She caught the scent of burning sage and a solution of liniment. Abbie's eyes glided past Grace and settled on Crane. His crystal blues looked up from the drawing in the book and trapped Abbie in his laser tractor beams. He uttered her name "Leftenant" with such tenderness that she became weak. "Crane, is that you?" she replied uncertainly. "How is this possible?" She shook her head at the colonial furnishings and thought of her own time traveling experience. Whereas he was a composed captain in his past life, Crane now appeared as a disheveled patient. 

"Leftenant it is I. I know not how and why. Ms Dixon has been attending me and I hoped to glean some answers from this text. As soon as I opened this book you appeared. The book is a conduit for the witnesses to connect with one another, I believe. I uncovered a similar text in my ancestral estate in Scotland. Your likeness appears in both." With urgency now Crane said "Grace is protecting me Leftenant, but I need your help to return to Sleepy Hollow." Crane's lilting voice was a salve to her metaphysical wounds. Softly Abbie countered "Where are you Crane? Your body is in Sleepy Hollow. You were hit by lightening and....." she trailed off not wishing to relive his freak accident. Crane and Grace caught the meaning in her somber reply. 

Crane attempted to raise himself from the bed, however, Grace stilled him. In this gloomy vision, Abbie felt a deep forlorn pervade her body as she ached to embrace Crane, yet she kept her distance fearing this to be another purgatory. Abbie did not wish to revisit that infernal place but that was the only explanation she could think of. Her fingers twitched to shift the strands of hair out of Crane's face and smooth her thumb over his mustached lip. Need was climbing in her now and she fixed her eyes on anything but him. 

Crane for his part was going through an emotional upheaval. It pained him to be so disconnected from the Leftenant. He sensed her walls were up and something terrible happened at home. He longed to be near her and comfort her in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to stroke her hair and drink in her fragrant skin. He tried to mask his feelings but the heat arising in his groin would soon betray him. Crane studied his partner. The sadder she looked, the more he was drawn to her. If only she would just reach for him. The throbbing continued as Grace broke the unease between them. 

Grace called to Abbie now. "Abigail Mills, you are my ancestor. You have great strength and an enduring bond with Captain Crane. You are God's witnesses and as such you are a vessel for power, you are a divine weapon, and combined you both are a force of reckoning that must stop the evil that threatens mankind." Abigail, you need to return Captain Crane's soul to his body. What you see here is merely a specter of his spirit which I was able to preserve after hearing your calls. The answer lies in the book of witnesses." 

Abbie still held the book in her hands. She looked down now and opened it. Instantly she was transported back to her living room in Sleepy Hollow with Crane's body resting easy. Abbie knew what she had to do.


	7. Resurgam

With the help of Jenny and Joe, Crane’s body was relocated to the subterranean cavern where he was buried for two hundred and fifty years before awaking in the twenty first century. The cave was where his body reposed in a magical state of preservation hidden from history. Abbie thought it best that Crane’s body should return to the cave to keep it safe and intact for the time being. Using the magical relics in the cave, as well as the spellbook from Katrina’s coven, the three figures formed a triangle, held hands, and cast a powerful spell to keep Crane’s body in suspended animation and prevent it from decomposing, until Abbie could reunite his spirit with his corporeal form.

  
“Abbie, do you think this will work?” Jenny asked anxiously. “I hope so. Crane’s my partner, I have to try. He would do anything to save me if the tables were turned,” Abbie responded hopefully. Joe shook his head in silent agreement.

  
Abbie parted ways with the lovers and headed to the archives to collect her books and maps. In her vision, Grace said that the key to bringing Crane back was the Book of Witnesses. Of all the books that Abbie consulted, she had never heard of this one. She had in her possession Washington’s Bible and Grace’s journal. The book that she found on Crane’s body did not have a title, however, she assumed that was the book in question. Her portrait was indeed drawn into the initial page, however, little else could be derived from the text. The book was in a language she didn’t understand and its meaning lay veiled. Although she couldn’t read it, she certainly sensed the book’s emotions as if they were her own. The book transmitted emotional intelligence to the reader and vice versa, as if it too were reading the person it came in contact with.

  
If what’s past is prologue, then Abbie thought perhaps she should indeed start at the beginning. She drove out to Fredericks Manor with all three books hoping that her ancestor’s home would give her some kind of magical access to unlocking the book’s secrets. After putting the car in park, Abbie took out Crane’s knitting. She tugged a strand free from its length and tied the loose yarn around her wrist. Her heartbeat quickened as she took in the old façade and heard Crane’s voice echoing in her mind “Grace is protecting me.” Grace had heard her prayers and came to Crane’s aid by keeping him safe…from what? Or who?

  
Abbie exited the car as the sun had begun to recede. She entered Frederick’s Manor and could envision what it looked like in its former colonial splendor. She felt an immediate connection to the space having last set foot in the parlor in 1781. Pulling out her flashlight, Abbie scanned the rooms. She was half hoping Grace or Crane would appear to her again and offer more guidance. “Crane, I don’t know where you are or if you can hear me, but I’ll get you back.” Abbie spoke out loud hopefully.  
She opened the “book of witnesses” and paused hoping that something would happen. She turned the pages slowly and discovered that while she still could not read the words, she could now effortlessly feel their meaning. The book was directing her to another part of the manor house. Concurrently, she could also feel Crane’s presence and perceive his feelings emanating from the space in between this world and that. Abbie paused in her tracks listening and feeling intently.

_"My adoration and affection for Miss Mills is boundless, Grace. I would be lost without her, I AM lost without her. From my birth to hers, our fates have been entwined. I thought that I had free will to choose my own destiny, but I understand now that my destiny has always been the Leftenant. My life is Abbie, my love is Abbie, my desire is for Abbie. I am no use as a Witness without Abigail Mills by my side."_

Abbie was shaken to the core by the revelation of Crane’s true feelings for her. Instinctively she said, “I love you too, Crane” into the empty space around her. She felt that Crane heard her too and that hope compelled her forward. Abbie walked up a staircase leading to the second floor landing. The book guided her to a small bedroom in the furthest corner of the manor house secluded from the rest of the rooms. As she opened the door, Abbie immediately discerned that she was not alone. There was a heavy feeling in the air, an oppressive quality that pervaded the emptiness. She set her rucksack down and pulled out Grace’s journal. She knew she had seen a spell in there that would allow her to see things hidden from view. “Aha!” she exclaimed after finding the right page and began the recitation.

_Aparecium verum_   
_Aparacium lux_   
_Aparecium amare_   
_Aparecium latet_

Abbie repeated the spell three times before the vacant room began to subside. A sparsely decorated room gradually emerged. She recognized it immediately as the room Grace and Crane appeared to her in. It was the same place from her vision. Out of the shadows of the room Crane stepped forward to meet Abbie. She could hardly believe her eyes. Without speaking, both Witnesses felt a mutual love pass between them. Abbie felt relief and her eyes glistened tearfully. Crane extended both of his hands towards her to pull Abbie into a soft embrace. His spectral arms passed right through her to his dismay. He was crestfallen that he couldn’t touch his beloved leftenant.

“Abbie...” Crane started. “At last you’ve found me.”

“The book of witnesses led me here. Crane, you were right, it somehow connects me to you.” Abbie confirmed.

“Grace was right all along. She is an incredible woman. I see that now.” Crane raked his hands through his hair anxiously. “I have my volume of the book with me. I think we both need to possess the book to reunite my spirit with my body…” his voice trailed off.

“We can give it a try but I can’t read it. I was hoping you could.” Abbie replied. She wanted to do more than just talk shop in that moment. She wanted to have a much more intimate conversation, but Abbie now regarded Crane with her cool professionalism. She needed to complete this mission for Crane’s sake.

“I understand. I think the book will let us know what we must do regardless if we can read the text or not. It reads us while we’re reading it.” Crane offered in professorial tones.

  
“Right, I gathered as much.” Abbie tersely countered. Her heart yearned to say much more, but she held back matching Crane’s reserve.

“Crane...” Abbie met his gaze and held it, “The book also transmits our thoughts and feelings to each other. Let’s just be aware of that while we try to work this witness magic out.”

  
Crane nodded his head in acknowledgement. How he wished he could touch Abbie in that moment. He’d heard her confessions of love and felt her affection for him. He longed to reciprocate them with ardor. Crane earnestly awaited a physical reunion.

  
Abbie picked up her phone and contacted Jenny. Jenny and Joe were tasked with returning to Crane’s body in the cave and awaiting for him to awaken after the spell was cast. “We’re on it!” affirmed Jenny and Joe in unison. Abbie could always count on the love birds. She envied them. If only she could have a fraction of the bond they shared she thought.

  
Crane caught the whisp of that apprehension although he did not let on. It settled into his gut and he realized that he’d cloaked his feelings for Abbie for too long. The thought pierced him and made him feel guilty he had withheld his true love from her. She needed him in a way only he could comprehend and yet, he persisted in keeping her at arm’s length. It wasn’t too late he assured himself. He could still give the leftenant the love they both craved.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever attempt at writing fan fiction. The Ichabbie fandom has inspired me this halloween weekend to celebrate our favorite OTP. Hope you like my humble tribute to the greats.


End file.
